


All's Gold

by DisneyMuse, slytherintbh



Series: The Demon's Apprentice [3]
Category: Gravity Falls
Genre: Alternate End Prompts, Death, Deleted Scenes, Gen, Head Injury, More Crying Than Homeric Epic, Running Away, dipper pines the edgelord, happy endings, memory gun, metal plates, mind wiping, reveal scenes, roll up roll up, sad endings, tyrone pines - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-09-26
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:31:47
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 5
Words: 10,700
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6935077
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DisneyMuse/pseuds/DisneyMuse, https://archiveofourown.org/users/slytherintbh/pseuds/slytherintbh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of alternate endings to 'Gold', as suggested by readers. </p><p>A hell of a lot of suffering, basically.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. D.I.P.P.E.R

_DISNEYMUSE, GOLD CHAPTER 20:_

_I keep wishing for a happy ending, but even the happiest I can think of- The Pines successfully turning Dipper into a blank slate with the memory gun- is filled with tragedy._

* * *

The pulsating stream of blue light cast shadows throughout the basement.

Stanford Pines could barely keep his arm upright as he watched his nephew grow still, only the faintest of tremors running along his worn, emaciated frame. Tears were already congealing on the taut skin of the teen’s face. How had Stanford not noticed how _tired_ he looked? How had they not seen?

The rushing fizz of energy stopped short as he dropped the gun to the floor, hand falling away. Neither Stan nor Mabel spoke as he walked up to the chair.

A bruise was blossoming impressively across one cheek, kid’s eye swollen painfully shut. Sweat had stiffened his hair into tight, rounded curls, and his nosebleed had begun to flake away alongside the tearful mucus gathered just under his nose. Beyond that, though, Dipper appeared entirely at peace, sleeping almost, mouth ever so slightly parted as though readying to speak. Gusts of air danced innocently through his lips.

It was so _foreign._ He barely looked like Dipper at all. Then again, he wasn’t - Ford stopped the thought as soon as it hit, choosing instead to pull away the tape. Each resounding _rrr-iiii-pp_ made Mabel flinch and she buried herself in Stan’s arms, watching as the strips of grey fluttered to the ground. Angry red marks curved along slender wrists; finally, Ford slipped two hands underneath Dipper’s arms, faces a mere foot apart.

When had he begun to associate the boy with fear? With dark circles and that permanent undercurrent of absolute terror which had once hung so heavily around him, like an omen? To see him so at peace, so free… it wasn’t like looking at whoever Dipper Pines had been during the past few months. Not his great nephew, but an extension of Bill’s will.

Gently pulling the limp body up from the hard chair, Ford felt his heart palpitate at the ragdoll helplessness of the arms listing over his own, the head resting on his shoulder. A sprig of brunette curls tickled his chin. He leant back to allow the teen to collapse fully.

“I’m going to carry him upstairs,” Ford mumbled through a thick atmosphere. “D-don’t disturb him for a bit. W-we still need to work out how to… fix everything.”

Mabel’s eyes followed Ford’s movements like a woman half-asleep, bemused, distant. The water rolling down her cheeks could have been tears. It could have been rain.

Aware of the chill of the boy’s body, he harried the elevator quietly, relieved to carry him into the downstairs bedroom - not the attic, too many memories, too many dangerous ways to bring back the darkness (the evil? the devil?) germinating in Dipper. Ford rested him down on his own bed. The boy sank into the covers, hands clutching ever so slightly at the material.

He’d killed so many people. He’d betrayed the Pines family to the utmost. Knowing Bill, and knowing what it was like to be under Bill’s thumb, Ford rather imagined that the kid had fallen in love.

They’d have to protect his mind. First thing on the agenda.

***

“Scalpel.”

A cold handle was dropped into Ford’s outstretched palm, chilling the latex gloves he wore. Stanley watched as impassively as possible. Both were aware of Mabel hovering nervously outside the door, only able to see the sharp white lighting that shifted through the frosted glass. Glancing at the sheath of metal waitting on the table, Ford’s throat hefted a heavy gulp of regret, and he began to make the incision.

***

“Is he asleep?” The girl’s cracking voice sent shivers down Ford’s spine. “Did it go okay?”

“It went fine,” he replied gently, rubbing her shoulder with a fond attempt at a smile. “Never going to have another problem with Bill.”

Mabel glanced into her great uncle’s bedroom, where her brother was lying unconscious. Even from where they were stood, the mass of bandages around his head were eminently visible, a shock of white against dark coverlets. Fear bubbled in her brain. “Did you… did you damage his birthmark?”

Ford looked to the floor. “It’s gone. It was too much of a liability. He’d remember everything and then we -” Tears were already slipping down her ruddy cheeks, hand covering her mouth. “Oh, Mabel dear, please don’t cry!”

“But they were what made him _Dipper_ ,” she choked, trying to cover her face. “He’d only just learned to like it!”

Leaning forward awkwardly, Stanford breathed a brave gust of air. “Mabel.” He took her hand in his own, and tried not to think how small it still seemed. “Mabel, I know it’s going to be difficult. It’s almost impossible to realise it, with his body there, but... the Dipper we knew is dead.”

***

Heaving a suitcase up onto the bed, the old man huffed and massaged his back for a moment, eyes squeezed shut. That was the worst thing about aging. The pain. The constant aches that resonated from just about every part of his frame.

Stanley, to Ford’s relief, had actually cleaned up a majority of the room, although most of Mabel’s crazed collectibles remained intact. All of Dipper’s posters, belongings, clothing and scribblings were gone. Packed away until the day that it may be safe to return them.

Now it was time to move everything up into the highest section of the loft.

Looking back at the left side of the room, it was as though nobody had ever slept there.

***

“He’s been out for a long time, Sixer. Is he even gonna wake up?”

Wincing slightly at the choice in nickname, Ford glanced at his twin and then back down at the boy in his bed. It had been three days. Giving him sufficient nutrition was increasingly difficult.

There was, of course, the question of whether using the memory gun had simply broken his mind irreparably. With Bill poking around in there, it was entirely possible that the safeguards and structures had completely given way, leaving nothing. Less than a blank slate. Worse than dead.

When he dared to turn away, Ford found his brother crying, aged face wearing yet more rivulets for tears to dance down. “I loved him,” Stanley rasped, eyes immovably focused upon the bandages and the thin wrists of the teen. “I loved him so much.”

***

“Hey, uh. Excuse me?”

Stanford blinked. The voice had definitely come from inside his room. He retraced his steps back to the door and opened it with some trepidation, met with a pair of very warm, very confused young eyes. The boy was sat up, head resting on the board. He appeared to be struggling to move. “Hi. I… I don’t know where I am, uh… could you help me out?”

“O-of course.” Ford entered quietly, supporting the boy’s back so that he could sit fully upright. “Are you okay? What can you remember?”

“Uh, I don’t know… do I know you? Am I supposed to?” A frightened but wary smile was dancing on young lips, agonisingly different to the expression Dipper used to hold. “I just woke up here. There was nobody else around…”

“You’re alright. You hit your head, and had to have surgery.” It was unlikely that he would maintain the complex thread of lies for long. “I’m… I’m your grandpa. Grandpa Ford. Do you remember that?”

“No.” The boy laughed. “I don’t even remember my name.”

***

“Tyrone, that’s not how you hold a fork.”

“Just - gimme a minute -” to the vague amusement of his family, the boy finally righted his fork and smiled proudly, waggling it. “There! See Grandpa, no problems! Although -”

Tyrone picked unhappily at the swath of bandages around his head, grumbling. He frowned down at the rounded orange plastic of his implements in comparison to the gleaming silver the others were using. “How come Mabes gets to have a proper one? I’m not _that_ accident prone. I wouldn’t stab myself accidentally.”

Ford sighed, but quirked a smile. “Mabel hasn’t had very recent brain surgery, unlike yourself. Be _nice_ to your cousin.”

Simply nodding, Tyrone cheerfully ate the noodles steaming away in the bowl, entirely nonchalant. On occasion Stanley or Mabel would find themselves staring, wondering how he could both look and feel so different, turning their gazes away when he hummed delightedly at the last of his food. “Thanks for the meal, Grunkle. It was delicious.”

“Don’t you worry about it, kiddo.”

***

“What’s this?”

Wandering around the satellite dish in the middle of the grass, Tyrone tried to make out the name flashing on the side. DIPPER PINES. What could that mean? He was Tyrone Pines - so there was that surname in common - but he’d not heard of a Dipper in their family. What a weird first name… like that constellation...

“No no, don’t touch that, it’s not safe!” Ford approached quickly, pushing his ‘grandson’ aside. “Just a test we’re doing. Go on into the shack, my boy. It’s nothing to be worried about.”

Tyrone didn’t question it. Mabel, Stan and Ford watched him wander into the building from the safety of their transparent box, breath already fogging up the inside. Stanley hummed. “Why are we sendin’ him in?”

“Well, better safe than sorry. Two hits with the memory gun are better than one.”

None of them dared to dwell on the boy in the Mystery Shack as the waves of power frazzled the grass around them. Stanford tried to keep his hands from shaking and his mind from pulling apart all of the implications of their actions. Mabel let her shoulders sag in the realisation that this was the final nail in the coffin. Stanley simply watched, impassive.

***

The final scents of summer were washed away by the incoming drudgery of fall, and Mabel found herself packing her bags with shaking hands. She folded up a semi-clean shirt; threw a bra carelessly into her suitcase; dithered over which of her five notebooks were of top priority. Pictures of her brother were stuffed discreetly beneath her socks and a statuette of a mermaid. Admittedly, there weren’t all that many - Dipper hadn’t cared to stick around for a lot of selfies at the start of summer.

There were two polaroids that Mabel _definitely_ didn’t remember. The first was of Dipper, knelt in the forest, glaring up with a rose stuck very roughly behind one ear. The second was of both her brother and Bill, obviously from a far later date, teen smiling sheepishly beside the triangle’s exuberant arrogance.The damn things had appeared on her pillow one night, completely devoid of explanation save for a very scratchy _PINE TREE_ written on the white edge of the former and a burn mark on the back of the latter.

If nothing else, it was comforting to know that the comradery between boy and demon had taken a long time to build.

“Uh, Mabel?”

Startled, the girl jumped up, turning to see the lanky and vaguely self-conscious figure of Tyrone. Surprisingly, it wasn’t so difficult to remember the difference. The new boy was an entirely unique person - soft spoken, nervous, sweet like Dipper had been in preschool.

“Hey there, Ty. You okay?”

Shifting uncertainly in the door, he wandered over to his bed and sank down into it. When he spoke, it was gentle. “Wanted to chat before you left. I’m gonna miss you, cuz.”

A bite of acrimony shot through Mabel’s throat, prompting her to stoop further over her bag for a moment. Her hands gripped the fabric. Sighing, she stood and went to sit beside her twin. “I’ll miss you too, hun. Bloop.” She prodded his nose with vague amusement. “But there’s more to it than that.”

“How did you know?” Tyrone quirked a small, sly smile that made her flinch internally.

“Oh, just brilliant that way,” she cut back easily, ignoring the voice in the back of her head that whispered _twinsense_ despite having cast that term aside years before. “So, bozo, what is it?”

Tyrone nibbled at his lip, playing with the covers of his bed. “I - you trust Grandpa Ford, right?”

 _Trust no-one_ , she thought bitterly. Some things never changed. “Of course.”

“It’s just - he said my memories would come back over time but there’s nothing. Nothing at all. Nobody in town seems to know me. Ford looks shifty every time I ask about my parents. Grunkle Stan looks at me like I’m some kind of ghost come back to haunt him.” Tyrone began to choke up, eyes reddened. “I have absolutely no idea who I am or where I’m from, Mabel, and it’s driving me insane.”

“Oh, br-” Mabel checked herself before the inevitable ‘bro-bro’ almost slipped out, biting her tongue and wincing. “I’m so sorry. Honestly. It’s not - oh, don’t cry!”

But it was too late. He had buried his face deep into her shoulder, arms wrapping around her neck in a way that they hadn’t for years, and she hummed stiltedly. “I wish there was something I could tell you,” she mumbled. “I really do.”

***

Tyrone only had to mention the strange note with the triangle doodle on his wall for Ford to fully Bill-proof the house, mere hours before Mabel had to leave.

***

The coach rumbled and hummed easily over the roads outside Gravity Falls, Oregon, and Mabel sat alone on the window seat. She remembers the sound of Dipper opening a letter by her ear a few years before, and his pleased sigh. She remembers the same sound of satisfaction an hour before, when she had hugged him as tightly as possible. “Bye, cuz,” he chuckled in her ear, but for all the cheeriness in his tone the strain was still audible.

Now she had to work out what remained of her brother, and how to continue alone.

***

Ford watched the coach pull out onto the road, heart heavy. Stan was trying to hide his tears.

“So, my boy, what do you think of it?”

Tyrone raised his head in confusion, wanting his friend back already. Life made more sense with Mabel around. “What do I think of what, grandpa?”

“Well, you were my apprentice before.” Ford ignored the semi-shocked, semi-scandalised look his twin threw at him. “When do you want to start?”

Looking out at the cloud of dust the coach leaves behind, Tyrone didn’t know.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to DisneyMuse for the first of the prompts! I feel it's not really up to standard, so please point out any errors. I'll be back onto writing as soon as exams are over.


	2. Fratricide

_SILVERFIRE12, CHAPTER 19 -_

_Well. Out of all the scenarios I had thought of, this was definitely not one of them. I thought Dipper was going to kill Ford not the other way around.  
_

* * *

Ford shook. Finger pressed loosely on the trigger, he lowered the gun slightly. “You’re right. I… I can’t kill you. But I can kill him.”

The gun jammed. 

Panic immediately grasped Ford’s heart as he stumbled back, staring down at the weapon with something close to betrayal in his eyes. Stanley had frozen completely; if Ford dared to look behind him, he would have seen a man in complete conflict.

“Pine Tree-”

Dipper didn’t storm over so much as stride, mouth pulled into a taut sneer. “Fuck you,” he hissed, grasping Ford’s coat lapels and leering directly up into a pair of terrified blue eyes. “Oh, ‘I can kill him’? What, am I just a pawn to you now?” Magic wreathed itself along Dipper’s arms and caught alight, singeing the sparse hairs on Ford’s chin as the teen grinned.

“Stanley, help -” Ford’s throaty plea was ignored. “Dipper. Look into your heart. Please don’t do this.”

His entreaty had the opposite effect. “ _Don’t call me Dipper_ ,” the boy hissed, slamming the old man into the ground. “You lost the fucking _right_ to use that name when you pulled a _gun_ on me.”

“I had the _right_ to stop you - I - I know what you’re planning!”

Taken aback, Dipper raised one eyebrow and ducked to the ground, wrenching the gun from his great uncle’s hand as he used tendrils of magic to hold him down.

“Interesting,” Dipper murmured, gaining in confidence. “And that’s an excuse?”

“Oh, please knock off the ‘evil villain’ act, boy, it doesn’t suit you.” Ford’s gaze was trained solely upon the weapon hanging limp in Dipper’s hand.

“Better than my ‘woe is me’ shit, right? At least I’m happy.” Tightening his grip, Dipper held the gun purposefully in one hand. A cool breeze shifted in the air and pushed his bangs aside just a touch - enough to brighten his golden eyes a little further.

Ford felt the weight of his crystalline terror and hardened his eyes. “You wouldn’t dare.”

For a second, Dipper hesitated, almost looking like the boy who had arrived in the ‘Falls at the start of summer. Then it passed; the cold determination he’d grown rekindled in his face and he leveled the gun at Ford’s forehead. “Bang.”

This time, the pistol shot perfectly.

Dipper was shaking. With one hand, he wiped at his mouth, throwing the gun away and looking Stan in the eyes. “Guess the metal wasn’t thick enough, huh?” The tremble in his voice calmed gently and he stepped back, turning to look at Bill. “We have work to do, don’t we? Let’s jump.”

“Sure thing, kiddo.” Amused, Bill watched the teen step into the Mindscape. “Laters, Fez. Might not wanna let Star see. Bullets sure do make a nice mess!”

Bill left.

Just like that, Stan was alone in the dark with the body of his brother bleeding red into the grass. Mabel was moving about in the Shack. He had to do something with Ford - his _brother -_

His brother who had tried to murder their great nephew in order to stop the dream demon. Who had kept the plan a complete secret. Who was now yet another bone of contention. Who was dead.

“Shit.” Stan said, and sank to the ground.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> writer's block can go die


	3. Bring You Back

_DISNEYMUSE, CHAPTER 20-_

_As for potential alternate endings... Dipper accepting being revealed the first time and letting his family force Bill out of his mind with invasive surgery is probably too "happy" of an ending to hope for. Although it would have interesting out-lash of Dipper against his family, probably regretting not letting Bill cover it all up._

* * *

 

Dipper had only ever undergone surgery once, when he had been far too young to remember.  
  
Mabel had tearfully asked their mother where her twin was going, and been quickly soothed, because the doctors were _professionals, sweetie._ Young eyes had watched a similarly small brother enter the operation room. Already under heavy sedatives, Dipper hadn’t heard the conversation firsthand; he had it relayed to him years afterward, by a similarly distraught sister.   
  
“I was so scared,” she sniffled, offering a wan smile. “But it turned out okay, so I guess I was overreacting as usual.”

Dipper didn’t turn around, lying on the attic bed with his face to the wall.

“Grunkle Ford isn’t a doctor, of course, but I don’t think he’d put you in any danger,” she continued, almost conversationally. “He’s got a metal plate in and it doesn’t seem to have lessened his IQ at all. As if anything could! Insufferable know it all, ammirite?”

Mabel’s attempt to feign camaraderie fell flat. Sniffling, Dipper pulled his sheets closer around him, head sinking into the pillows.

“Right,” she faltered. “I mean - I guess I’ll leave you alone then. I just -”

Dipper winced as her voice bubbled over with emotion, obviously choked with tears. “I wish I could be sure that you’ll ever forgive me for this. I _love_ you, Dipper. We’re doing this because we love you. Surely you understand that?”

There was a taut moment. “I want to go to sleep,” the boy managed to mutter.

Mabel was definitely sobbing; she didn’t deign to reply as she stormed out, almost slamming the door. A small part of Dipper wanted to run after her and apologise - but it was so very small, so much less significant than it would have been in early July. So he stayed underneath his covers and wallowed in self-pity, hating and loving every second of it. Bill didn’t try to contact him, and he didn’t bother to open up communications.

Their brief flirtation with fate was over.

***

“Has the anaesthetic taken effect? Are you sure he’s properly out?”

Stan was hovering nervously beside the operation table, nibbling at his lip, and Ford didn’t particularly appreciate the sudden display of deep concern. Not that he disliked Stan being open to emotions… it was just very poor timing for it.

“I’m completely certain,” he huffed, before pulling his face mask on and glaring markedly at his twin.

Stanley quailed under his gaze and delivered the necessary tools without further questions.

Looking down at his great nephew, Stanford struggled to hold back his own afflictions. Spread out before him, Dipper looked extremely vulnerable, still young and lean. His skin was littered with light markings from the forest and the gentle bruising that came from adventuring. Frustratingly, it made Ford feel so - protective.

Dipper had lied. He’d partnered with Stanford’s worst enemy, apparently willingly, and gone into this surgery with more venom in his eyes than Ford had ever seen in a Pines. Even Stan had held back on the acrimony after many years of bitterness. Stan had the right to hate his twin, and yet he didn’t. Dipper didn’t really have the right to hate any of them, and was trying his hardest to punish everyone around him.

Reaching for the nearest scalpel, Ford began to plan his actions.

***

Regret.

Dipper had never experienced such violent regret as when he woke up a day after the surgery, head throbbing agonisingly and distinctly _heavier_. Experimentally, he tried to pick up the thread of magic between himself and Bill. Nothing. Dead silence. Even the sickening heat of the magic under his skin was gone, replaced with a dull human normality that he hated.

Somehow, he’d never felt quite so alone in his life. The agreement with Bill was meant to be temporary, but he’d grown attached, and enjoyed the company. Life was so much easier when people didn’t dance around your mental issues. As much as Bill had been an unbelievable asshole sometimes, he’d still been good company. A friend, and an ally.

It was over now, though. Dipper couldn’t help but feel that he could have done more, could have stopped it had he just planned ahead. Too little, too late.

He wept bitterly.

***

“Could you pass the salt?”

Aside from small requests, the dinner table was completely silent. Dipper was so determinedly morose that nobody dared to speak to him. It was difficult to anyway; the wealth of bandages above his brows veritably shielded his face and it would have been hilarious in any other set of circumstances.

Stan had tried to pull together something nice that night, a perfect lasagne that Mabel congratulated him on no less than five times (and generally while it was in her mouth.) Dipper was staring down at his plate. His cutlery was untouched.

“Are you… okay?” Ford tried to sound gentle.

“I don’t want this,” Dipper mumbled, distinctly red-faced. His eyes were bloodshot - he tried to hide them as he pushed his chair back, stumbling away. “I’m going to bed.”

“Dipper -”

***

_“Come on, kid.” Bill rolled his eye, giggling. “It’s not that easy to get rid of me. We had a deal, right?”_

_“But- the metal plate -” Dipper protested, not daring to hope._

_“Ah, plate shmate! I’m a dream demon, it’s nothin’ to me! Only reason I don’t bother Sixer is because I’m bored of him.”_

_“Bored?”_

_“Mhm… You’re far more interesting.” Bill began to shift, darkening as his triangular figure twisted into something vaguely humanoid. It was like living tar; the demon’s twisted grin only grew. “I wonder what I can do with you.”_

_A dripping hand began to wind its way around Dipper’s throat. “No, stop -”_

Dipper woke up.

***

As time went on, Dipper found himself changing his mind.

With the distance from Bill and his machinations came a chilling rationality that he’d blanketed under his love of the freedom, and the magic. Seeing his family every day, watching their desperation - it reminded him of all the promises he’d made and the plans they’d concocted in the dead of night. These memories added another layer to the cocktail of negativity in his head:

Guilt.

Crippling, all-encompassing guilt. It wreathed his mind with even more determination than the depression did. He struggled to look anybody in the eye, felt bad for missing Bill, didn’t know who to turn to or how to reconcile the million conflicts in his head. He spent hours in the attic room just staring out of the window.

Ford stopped inviting Dipper to dinner, bringing the food up and leaving it outside the door or at the foot of the bed.

“We’re still here, you know,” he had said one night. Intimate sadness was plain in his voice. It was perhaps the most emotionally vulnerable state that Dipper had ever been allowed to see in Ford. He didn’t want it.

“Yeah.”

“Dipper, please. Could you listen to me for just a second?”

“I’d rather not.”

Ford swore, rather violently. “Fine. Sit here in your misery. You can’t say we didn’t try.”

The door clicked. Dipper turned back, only to find that his great uncle had forgotten to leave the food.

***

Mabel sat at the end of the bed, hair dangling down in front of her face. “We’re going home in a week. Don’t you want to go out?”

Home in a week. High school again. Bullies and parents and a very, very disappointed therapist. No more Bill. Did he want to go back? Dipper was certainly sick of the ‘Falls; yet he couldn’t cope with the idea of being anywhere else. The entire damn town was like a noose that he fell into, time and time again. It killed him to be there. He couldn’t live anywhere else.

“Dipper. Please.”

Shit, she was crying. “Please snap out of this. You’ve never been this bad for this long - just come back to us! Please, please forgive me. I’m _sorry!_ I’ve never been so sorry for anything.”

More guilt washed over Dipper, freezing him into further lethargy. “I don’t want to,” he admitted in a low whisper. “I don’t want to.”

She suddenly grabbed at the covers with one hand, reddened face swimming into view. She was furious. “You don’t want to?”

“No.”

There was a very long moment.

“Fuck you.” Wavering ever so slightly, she stood, gritting her teeth into a tight line. “You know what, Dipper? Fuck you. We’ve tried so hard. We just wanted to protect you, and stop Bill from using you, and you’ve given us _jack shit_ to work with. We should’ve let him have you, because it’s obvious that you aren’t a Pines anymore. Just some _toy_ for the world’s worst triangle.” She took a deep breath - these were obviously words that had been stewing for a long time. “You aren’t even _trying_ to improve your mental health. I’ve seen you fighting and _this_ isn’t fighting. You’d rather just wallow in your crappy self-pity than try to make something of your situation. I don’t know what Bill did or didn’t do, but I know this isn’t him. This is all you.”

Dipper curled in on his pillow. He hadn’t even noticed the growing damp spot beneath his nose. “You’re right.”

“And?” Mabel didn’t sound impressed.

“And…” he sat up, resting against the headboard. Everything was wavering. “I feel bad.”

“Is that an apology or a statement?” she asks, genuinely concerned.  

“I feel bad,” he repeated, more urgently. “I feel bad all the time and I don’t want to be here anymore.”

Mabel’s heart froze. “No -”

“You don’t know what it was like, to have his magic in your veins,” Dipper continued. “To feel needed.”

“You are needed,” she replied, voice thick. “ _We_ need you. Are we not enough?”

He ignored her. “Then to suddenly wonder which side I was meant to be on. Who was in the right. If I cared about being in the right anymore.”

“I feel like I can answer that one for you.” Gently moving up the bed she sat next to him, watching as he curled into a tight sitting position. Her anger drained away and pooled onto the floor.

“You have to understand,” he croaked. “Bill is intoxicating.”

For the first time in weeks, Mabel dared to pull her brother into a hug, wincing as he sobbed against her back. His fingers dug pits into her shoulders as he tried to find something to hold onto. “We can help you,” she soothed. Lifting one hand to his head, she pulled softly at Ford’s bandages. They had been refreshed a few times, of course, but she’d never had the chance to look beneath -

“Oh Dipper,” she whispered. “I’m sorry.”

His birthmark was mangled. Ford had probably tried to minimise the damage, but without any better option, almost the entire top row of dots was completely gone. A constellation had been downgraded to mismatched acne; a definite line was visible where the scalpel had severed the skin.

“They’re gonna kill me for this.”

“What, at school?” Mabel almost laughed. “I’ll beat them up personally if they lay a finger on you. You _know_ that.”

“If I was a freak before…” he shook slightly. “I miss Bill. I hate him so much sometimes, and then I love him.”

“You always love the things that give you purpose,” Mabel reasoned, sighing.

“That’s not why I love you though,” he replied. He felt her stiffen in surprise, and dared to smile. “I’m sorry, Mabel. Genuinely.”

She sat back on her haunches. Sunlight streamed through the windows and lit her up, star as she always was. Dipper was still hunched in the darkness, pale and wan, looking ghostly and sick. But if he stayed with her a little longer, maybe he could brighten too. Maybe he could forget the plans and the loves that had taken root in his head. He’d frequently wondered what Bill wanted with him. How far would he have gone?

A very rational voice in the back of his head always whispered _murder_ and he ignored it as diligently as possible.

Mabel was watching him with a definite fascination. “I’m sorry for shouting.”

“It’s okay. You meant well.”

She nibbled at her lip, and rubbed at her arms. “Can you forgive us?”

Dipper hesitated. “You. I can forgive you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Look! It's sort of happy! Kind of!
> 
> SONG: Broken by Lauren Hoffman


	4. Deleted Scene

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This isn't actually an alternate ending. This is a deleted scene, set just before Dipper is properly caught. It was thought up prior to chapter 8 - 3 reveal scenes were just too many, so I decided to cut it. It's not long, but it's something! (please forgive me)

Running up to the attic, Dipper began to haphazardly throw clothing into his largest backpack, giving only the quickest cursory glances to what he was holding. Where he was running to, he didn’t know - anywhere away from Gravity Falls. Anywhere away from the smoldering ash that he’d made of the people he used to know. 

He was very tactically avoiding thinking about that. 

Shirts, trousers, socks - everything was going in. He yanked the bag over to the curtain at the end of the room, casting an arbitrary glance at the Bill in the window. His medication had rolled underneath at some point last night; now he threw the bottle into the bag haphazardly. All he cared about was getting  _ out.  _ They wouldn’t try to follow him, right? Bill could protect him - right? 

“Dipper?”

Shit.  _ Shit! _ He’d been too wrapped up in his own thoughts to notice the sound of Mabel walking in, phone held loosely in one hand. He whipped around, trying to hide the bag behind his back; it was too late. She was already stalking over. 

“What are you doing?” she asked, sounding a touch frightened. 

“Nothing,” he answered, too quickly. “Just - organising something.”

“Not nothing at all.” He knew Mabel well enough to recognise the suspicion dawning on her face. She scrutinised him for a moment, shrugged, and went back to her phone, tapping idly at the screen.

He breathed a slow sigh of relief.

In one swift movement, Mabel managed to drop her phone and lunge behind Dipper. Shrieking, he fell back, watching in horror as she yanked the bag away victoriously and peered inside. She blanched. Pulling out his medication bottle, she managed to pale even further. For a second, it seemed as though she had made a terrible connection.

“I was going to sleep over at Bradley’s,” Dipper offered, weakly.

“With a full bottle of pills?” Faint. She sounded faint. Then she looked at the hefty contents of the bag and dropped the medication back in.

She turned. “You’re running away.”

“No, no I’m not! Why on the earth -”

Scoffing, Mabel swiped at glistening eyes. “I know you shut me out most of this summer, but I’m still your twin. You’d never take this much for a one night sleepover, with the boyfriend I’ve  _ never seen _ . Come on, Dipper. Give me some credit. I’m not that stupid.” She stood. “So why are you -”

Her face lit up with understanding, which gave way to misery. “No. No.” Stumbling back, she shook her head, tears previously swiped away now falling freely. 

“Mabel, it’s not what you think.” Desperate, Dipper reached out to her, shuffling to his feet. Mabel walked backwards into her bedside table. 

“Don’t lie to me,” she mumbled. “Don’t you dare.”

Breath caught in Dipper’s throat. Eventually he managed to gasp out a quiet  _ ‘don’t tell Ford’. _

This was admittance enough. Hands shaking, Mabel flinched away from Dipper’s outstretched palm, pallor sickly white as she connected the dots. They formed an ugly picture - so far from the sweet unassuming constellation that she’d once drawn over in biro. “Who?” she asked, audibly nauseated. “Bill?”

Dipper just nodded.

“Did he force you to?” Some of the blame had waned, concern creeping in.

It took Dipper a moment to reply. “...No.”

“Oh.” Mabel didn’t seem to know whether to be angry or afraid, curling the hem of her jumper inwards. “You have to understand that - that I have to tell them. Dipper. Please. We can help you.”

“No, no.” Dipper grabbed at the bag blindly, holding it like a shield. “Just let me leave. Please.”

“But we can make him leave you alone,” she whispered. “Or fix whatever he’s done to your head.”

“No.” Fear wrapped its way up his throat and he reached out again, reflexively. “You don’t have to do that. You don’t have to remember any of this.”

Mabel sounded terribly small. “Dipper?”

“You don’t have to remember any of it.” He laughed in the back of his throat, ignoring the burning in his eyes. “It’s a mercy, really. Just - forgive me for leaving you.”

The magic blast that followed was far less direct than Dipper had intended. Not knowing the appropriate spell, he’d vividly tried to picture his aim and let rip, feeling the magic drain from the tips of his fingers and slam into his twin. Whatever it had done had knocked her out cold; she was frowning ever so slightly.


	5. Falling Star- A Modest Proposal

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not as much of an Alternate Ending as an entire Alternate Route entirely. Diverges around chapter 8, Dipper's first big reveal. What if in order to free Dipper, Mabel became Bill's accomplice instead?

No.

No. No. No.

She wouldn’t let Bill have her brother again

Not after what he did the last time. Not after everything he’d been through.

God… how had she been so blind? How could not have seen it? How had she been so stupid?

Stan and Ford assured her that she had done the right thing by telling them about Dipper talking in his sleep. They would have never figured out this was Bill’s handiwork without her. She knew that figuring out what the problem was the first step, but the fact that it had taken this long… how much damage had already been done? How long had he even been involved with Bill? How much would they have to do to get Bill out of her brother’s head again?

Setting up the unicorn hair barrier she could take. She would punch every unicorn in Gravity Falls and make enough to protect the entire town if she needed to.

Keeping a closer eye on Dipper was a given. They shouldn’t have let him sneak out so easily after that first scare with the pills. Even if it was an accident, he needed more attention. It didn’t need to even be the bad kind! She could call up Candy and Grenda to see if maybe they could find Dipper some better company. Sure, they hadn’t had the best of luck in finding him anyone to hang out with over previous summers. Dipper’s attitude had become notorious around town. But there had to be someone he could talk to! 

Getting Dipper the help he needed… making sure he wasn’t alone again… that should have been enough, right?

But Ford had made the horrible suggestion. Putting a metal plate in his head. ‘It’s the only way we’ll know for sure’ He insisted. But there had to be another way. Something that didn’t involve invasive surgery. Wasn’t the unicorn hair barrier enough to keep Bill away? Mabel would set up a new one back home in California if that’s what it took. Ford saw how opposed Mabel was to the idea that he claimed they’d only do it if it was absolutely necessary.

Grown up talk for “We’re doing it anyways.” As if putting a slab of metal in someone’s head was like taking bitter medicine. Dipper wouldn’t swallow easy whether or not it turned out Bill was controlling him.

They still didn’t even know how much of a hold Bill had on him.

That smile on his face this morning… was he just being possessed? Or had Bill managed to do something to her brother to make him feel that way? She wasn’t sure which was worse.

 Once they went through with this, would they ever see him smiling like that again? Mabel kept telling herself that once Bill was out of Dipper’s head that things would get better. It would take time for him to recover, but it would finally be over.

 But that’s not how it happened the first time.

They thought Bill was gone. That his deal was over. Yet somehow he came back again. It’s why Ford suggested the metal plate after all. The ultimate “deal breaker”.

 But that didn’t mean Bill was finished with him either.

 Mabel knew her grunkle still woke up in the night and wandered about the shack. How Dipper wasn’t the only one muttering about eyes in his sleep. Bill still haunted him. Over 30 years and he still wasn’t gone. The plate didn’t stop Bill from getting in his dreams. Mabel asked him about it, wondering if they should set the unicorn hair barrier up again. But Ford assured her that it was just his own nightmares getting the best of him. That his trusty metal plate kept the real demon out of his head.

 It hadn’t taken Mabel too long to figure out that Ford had a hard time admitting he was wrong.

Even with the drastic move, the plate wouldn’t be enough. Mabel knew Dipper would continue to be haunted by Bill one way or another.

 What had he done… what had he gotten involved in… why hadn’t he come to her for help sooner?

Mabel’s heart sank, knowing the reason.

You didn’t help him the first time he turned to Bill.

_‘But you said you were going to help me today’_  

The sock opera… the mystery of the journals… at the end of the day, neither of them mattered. She should have been there for her brother like he had been there for her.

_‘Okay, fine! You know what? I'll do it on my own!’_

 Bill never would have been able to touch him if she just had been there to help him with the laptop. Even if they never figured out the truth behind it, he at least wouldn’t have faced Bill alone. Dipper would have never made that deal if she was there. She knew she couldn’t turn back time and change things... but she could set things right now. She would make sure Bill never touched her brother again.

 Ford and Stan were confronting Dipper themselves. She wanted to be there when it happened, but they insisted that it would be easier on her if they found out for themselves. ‘Maybe we’re worried over nothing.’ They assured her. But the more Mabel thought it over through the day, the more it made sense. It had to be Bill.

 Mabel had no time to hear from them what she already knew. This could be the only chance she had to get what she needed while all three of them were busy. Ford’s study would have everything she needed. The journals… the candles… she’d seen it all done before herself. Shouldn’t be too difficult to manage, right? It was what to do after that was the tricky part.

The last time Mabel heard the creeks of the old elevator behind the vending machine, it felt like she was going on a secret mission. Her last real ‘mystery twins’ adventure. Stealing from Ford’s study. Bill’s influence became more and more obvious in hindsight. Who knows what Bill had him retrieve? And yet Dipper brought her with him. Was it some sort of cry for help that she’d missed? It didn’t matter. She figured it out now, even if it was a little late.

As Mabel creaked open the decades old door, she prepared herself for the thick cloud of dust in the air. It didn’t matter how often Ford was in and out of this place. He didn’t take any time out to clean it. Too much time focused on his research and inventions to even think about the mess.

 But as messy as his workspace was, it was hard to miss the tattered old pages of the Journal opened wide on one of the desks. Ford was probably referencing it trying to remind himself of any sort of way they could know for sure if Dipper was dealing with the dream demon. Dipper still had Journal 3. But it wasn’t the only time Ford had written on Bill. And luckily, this was the one Mabel wanted. Journal 2. The floating black triangle hung in the corner of the page staring Mabel down. It was hard to make out all of Ford’s fancy handwriting from afar, but one word stood out clearly enough.

**Summoning**

She was really going to do it. Bring the demon here herself and give him a piece of her mind. Convince him to leave Dipper alone. She didn’t know what she’d have to offer him. But she was willing to do just about anything to save her brother.

“I’m doing this for Dipper” She repeated to herself as she held the book in her hands.

Mabel quickly read through the page, knowing she wouldn’t have much time to pull this off. It seemed rather simple. Sure, the Latin would be a bit tricky to pull off, but if Gideon could manage it at 10, it should be no problem for her.

 Mabel paced around the room, running the words of the spell through her head trying to figure out if they sounded right as she looked for the box of candles.

_‘Triangle Entangle… no, got to remember the Latin ‘um’s’_ Mabel thought to herself as she found a box chock full of wax candles. Ford must really enjoy his warm nights by candlelight... or these were a lot older than she thought they were.

 “You’ll say what 3 times?” Mabel wondered as she looked down at the page confused. _‘At least I won’t have to worry about pronouncing it’_ She thought to herself. The idea of her body uncontrollably spouting out nonsense wasn’t exactly pleasant, but she didn’t have time to memorize a few extra bits of gibberish anyways. She had to do this before Stan or Ford realized what she was doing. There was no way they’d approve of her plan.

Mabel managed to find a small lighter with a trickle of fluid left in it in one of the desk drawers. It would have to do. The setup was relatively simple. 8 candles in a circle. The subject of your deal in the center. She hadn’t planned for that, but luckily she always had pictures of all her family with her.

“Handy dandy scrapbook…” Mabel chuckled nervously to herself as she flipped through the pages. Always growing with all sorts of snapshots of her and her friends. But in Dipper’s case, the number of pictures of him drastically plummeted after their thirteenth birthday. Not as many happy days to display proudly.

_‘I should have taken a picture of him this morning’_ Mabel thought bitterly to herself. Possession or not, she hadn’t seen her brother smile so brightly in years. Maybe once this was all over, he’d still be able to look like that again? Even if there was no guarantee, she had to keep telling herself that.

 Mabel settled on a class yearbook picture. The smile was forced and fake, but it would work for this purpose. Mabel felt her stomach turn as she took a gel pen marker from her pocket and crossed out her own brother’s eyes. Something about “opening the mind’s eye”. More like drawing a nice big target on them.

 It certainly felt like every eye on the room was now on her. So many of them carved into the walls. Ford had covered up as many of them as he could, but Mabel couldn’t help count each one of them as she lit each candle.

 “11… 12… 13…” She whispered to herself. Each time she thought she’d spotted the last one, it felt like another eye opened. Would it kill Ford to get some wall paper down here to cover all this up? No wonder he was still dreaming of Bill.

 But now she’d be meeting the triangle herself. The last candle was lit. It was time for the moment of truth.

 “Triangulum Entangulum”

 There was no guarantee she’d have a way to convince Bill to leave him alone or that he’d even keep his word.

 “Meteforis dominus ventium”

 She was summoning their worst enemy right in the middle of Ford’s study. The signs of his first bad deal were all around her. Why did she think she’d be able to manage a better one?

 “Meteforis venetisarium”

 None of that mattered. No matter what it took, she would free her brother from Bill. At any cost.

 Her eyes lit up to an otherworldly blue. A force pushed itself on her body, struggling to take control. She tried to fight it, but it only brought her to her knees. She couldn’t move. She couldn’t breath. All she could do was watch helplessly as the last words escaped her lips. As she finally realized their supposed ‘meaning’ she knew that this was the last part of some big stupid joke that Bill must be playing to make an idiot out of all his summoners.

 “ɘǫɒƨƨɘm ƨbɿɒwʞɔɒd ɘǫɒƨƨɘm ƨbɿɒwʞɔɒd ɘǫɒƨƨɘm ƨbɿɒwʞɔɒd ɘǫɒƨƨɘm ƨbɿɒwʞɔɒd”

The dimly lit study shifted to grey. Mabel had seen it all happen once before. But this time she knew it was her fault. Bill Cipher was back in the Mystery Shack. But at least for just a moment, she knew he wasn’t in her brother’s head. 

Color drained from the entire world. And while the candles continued to only flicker lightly, the smell of something burning intensified. A glowing triangle began to grow into the empty space before her. Unsettling laughter emerged from the point before a blinding flash caused Mabel to shield her eyes for a moment. 

“Well, well well… Isn’t this a fun twist?” A grating voice echoed around the room. 

Mabel’s eyes tried to adjust to the bright light as they darted around the room. How many of those eyes around her were just her active imagination? Which of Ford’s many illustrations and idols was the real thing? 

The slight amount of weight above her head answered the question. No more than that of a particularly bulky hat, yet lacking any sort of warmth or chill. More like a buzz that was now sending a tingle down her spine. Thin black legs dangled beneath her eyes as the triangle enjoyed its new perch. 

“Looks like I’m quite the popular guy now! Wanna guess who’s my number one caller though?” Bill taunted. 

His form flipped down to face Mabel. His one singular eye engulfing both of hers. He was so close. She was ready to punch him right now if it weren’t for the fact that it would have no effect. Or he’d just poof away for some sort of comical effect of her punching herself in the face. 

That didn’t stop her from trying though.

Rather than a full blown punch, she at least tried to swat the demon out of her personal space. She was prepared for it to completely pass through him. Instead her hand was knocked right off her wrist.

 Mabel stared blankly at the stump where her hand used to be. Blood was spurting out from the wrist with veins, arteries and muscles exposed and yet not an ounce of pain sprouted from it. Did that mean it was paralyzed? She could see the red beginning to stain the bright pink sweater she’d picked out for the day. How much of this was even real?

 Bill still seemed content to wave the disembodied hand in front of her face like a cheap fan.

 “What can I say? I needed a _hand_!” Bill chuckled.

 “Give it back!” Mabel shouted back instantly.

 Sure, it wasn’t like her demands would change the demon’s mind, but it felt like one of those statements you had to at least get out there.

 “Awe, relax Shooting Star! Just trying to lighten the mood. Seems to me like you’ve been having a pretty tense day. What with you discovering Pine Tree’s been my lackey for a while now.” 

Bill tossed the hand back at her wrist which connected as easily as a puzzle piece falling into it’s match, sending a jolt down her arm. She flexed her fingers, finding they moved without any problems. If it weren’t for the red stains on her sleeve, it would have been easy to call it smoke and mirrors. But it was hard to tell what was real and what wasn’t with Bill involved. 

Mabel balled her reattached hand up into a fist as Bill dismissed her brother as some lackey. 

“He’s not your trophy! And you’re going to give him back!” Mabel demanded the triangle before her. 

Bill landed on the Journal, looking down at his likeness, uninterested in her threats. Sixer never could get his figure down right. Always a degree or two off. “Oh? And why should I do that?” 

“The game’s over! We know you’ve been using Dipper, and that metal plate is going to kick you right out of his noggin, and all that unicorn hair stuff will make sure you stay out!” 

Bill let out a hearty laugh at the idea of it. “Sure… It’s all working out so well, you decided to summon me and tell that to my face, right? Save it! You wouldn’t have brought me here unless you were desperate.” He pointed out. 

“No! I just... you know… just to be sure…” Mabel stumbled on her words. There was kind of a gap in the logic there. 

“More like you’re not sure this is all going to work, am I right! Can’t blame you considering Sixer’s track record!” 

Bill floated over to a dusty corner of the room where the remnants of an old machine remained busted. As far as Mabel could tell, it was some old broken monitor and some kind of steampunk-looking helmet cage torture device. Hard to say what it had once been used for, but her grunkle always seemed to be up to some weird stuff. 

“He thinks he can keep me out? He doesn’t even know how to install the thing properly! It won’t work any better than a tin foil hat!” Bill claimed as he floated above the cracked monitor. 

Mabel folded her arms, not buying what Bill was selling. “You’re just bluffing.” 

Bill rolled his eye. “Right. And your utter confidence in him is why you’ve called me in.” 

Mabel bit her lip, knowing he had her. She’d have to cut to the chase. “I want you out of Dipper’s life for good. No holding out for a few years before doing all of this again. You better not come anywhere near him. Ever!”

 Bill’s arms rested on his cane, bored. “Nah, don’t feel like it. We’re having so much fun! I’ve got plenty of ways to work around involuntary surgery and rainbow dyed mane.” 

“The Journals!” Mabel shouted.  “I can get you all three of the Journals!” 

It’s what he was trying to get rid of with Dipper the first time, right? Grunkle Ford would be angry about losing his precious research, but it was more than enough worth it to have Bill out of her brother’s life. 

Bill floated back to Journal 2 on the table, kicking it closed. “Puh-lease. Most of those ramblings are flat out wrong or outdated. I could have destroyed them a while ago if I wanted to. Nah, they’re nothing but firewood now.” 

Bill pressed his fingers together as he sized Mabel up before pointing them both at her. 

“Counter offer- **YOU**.”

Mabel stumbled back. She hadn’t expected him to be so blunt. She expected another play of words thing like the puppet trick that Dipper mentioned. Did he just know she wouldn’t fall for it again? 

“Why would I do something crazy like that!? We’ve almost got you beat!” Mabel shouted back. 

Bill waved it off. “Sure. Just like you ‘beat me’ last time. Spoiler warning! By morning, you and your grunkles won’t  even remember this day happened! And Pine Tree’s goes right back to being my puppet. Only this time, his so called family will barely notice he exists. My plans go off without a hitch, plus or minus your brother’s sanity and or life. Take your pick.” 

Mabel wanted to believe it was all a trick. That he was just desperate and a big fat liar. But she wasn’t sure if it was his confidence or her own fear making her wonder if he might be right. 

“You’re lying.” Mabel whispered under her breath, trying to convince herself as well. 

“Maybe. But whether or not you choose to play, I win in the end. Doesn’t matter to me either way. Thought it would be fun to trade pieces, but checkmate is still coming. I’m the one being a nice guy and giving you the option! Who’s going to be my puppet? You going to leave your brother hanging, or take his place?” 

Mabel turned away, sticking her fingers in her ears, not wanting to keep listening to Cipher’s attempts to draw her into a bad deal. This was a mistake. She knew that they had Bill beaten and were about to get him out of Dipper’s head for good with their own power. She never should have summoned him. This was what he wanted her to do. To throw everything away at the finish line and give himself another chance to unleash whatever nightmare-doom he had planned for the world. 

“You’re just a sore loser, Bill.” Mabel decided. She wasn’t going to listen to another word he said. 

Mabel had never heard the sound that pierced the air first hand, but she recognized it immediately as it’s booming power threatened to pierce her eardrums. 

The sound of a gunshot. Followed by a scream- Stan’s. 

Mabel couldn’t resist turning around no matter what kind of desperate ploy it was to get her attention. Cipher’s entire body had extended and become what looked like a vision into another world. Another time. She expected to it to be her great uncle injured from the blast. But the scene playing before her was much worse. 

Dipper was motionless on the ground with a pool of blood forming from the new blow to his skull. Stan had tackled his attacker to the ground. Tackled Ford- the man that had shot him. Mabel could smell the scent of gunpowder and blood in the air. 

_“Brx edvwdug, brx devroxwh edvwdug. Brx xvhg klp, brx -”_

  _Brx nloohg Glsshu”_  

Their words shifted around jumbled, incomprehensible to Mabel’s ears. But she could still see it. Stan cradling Dipper in his arms. He looked so thin… like he’d had the life sucked out of him long ago… and his eyes. The bags under them were dark and long, but even as he lay limp and lifeless, his eyes remained an unsettling shade of gold. 

Mabel tried to look away and keep telling herself that this was some cruel trick, but she couldn’t move an inch. She could hear Ford in the background- his tone sounded like he was arguing with Bill- but her attention was still focused on her brother. She watched as Stan held Dipper tight, closing his eyes and whispering into his ear. Even if she couldn’t understand the garbled code-speak, she could feel the pain in Stan’s voice. She could feel the love he had for Dipper. The hardened grunkle that she’d never seen shed a tear looked like a broken man before her. 

“Please…” Mabel finally managed to bring the words to her lips at the horrendous sight. “That’s enough.” 

“But we’re just getting to the good part!” Bill cheered as if he were watching some kind of popcorn flick. But Mabel doubted this was the kind where the hero came back to life after a few tears. 

_“What’s going on?”_  

Mabel could hear the words as plain as day. Her own voice. She saw a version of herself in the very same PJ’s she’d been toting all summer. _This_ summer. Dipper looked like he’d gone through years of agony, but she herself looked just the same. This wasn’t some sight of a distant or alternate reality. It was happening soon. 

Stan and Ford continued to speak to the vision-Mabel in code, but there was no hiding her own words. 

_“You… you didn’t… No. No. No, no please no.”_  

Mabel cupped her fingers over her ears, but still her own voice echoed through. She could feel the tears as if they were coming down from her own eyes. Mabel could even feel the cold grip of her brother as the vision gripped his hand tight. 

_“No. No. T-this wasn’t… we were going to save him. I thought we were going to save him?”_  

This all felt so real. More than just a dream- no a nightmare. She wanted to continue believe that Bill was nothing but a no good liar, and this was all part of his scheme to push her into a terrible deal. But it didn’t seem like there could be any worse future than this. Her brother looking like he’d been through hell, only to be killed by her own family. 

“There has to be another way.” Mabel declared clutching her chest. 

Finally Bill let the images fade as he returned to his normal size. “There is… You take his place.” 

“And I end up the one dead on the ground?” Mabel asked skeptically. 

She always joked that she would take a bullet for her family. But seeing it play out so literally… was this what it really had to come to? 

“Not necessarily… You could both end up dead.” Bill pointed out. “Or you could both live for all eternity! Who knows!” 

“You?” Mabel spat out frustrated. 

“Oh believe me, this future is a pretty solid one. Dipper Pines! Killed at 15 by his good old grunkle Stanford! I could see it the second I met Pine Tree! It would take a lot to set that kind of fate out of motion!” 

Bill extended his arm and a blue flame erupted from it. “It would be a pretty big deal.” 

An act of true love. That’s what usually turned the tide in fairy tales when it seemed like the villain had won. The hero would sacrifice themselves for the person they loved. They’d resign themselves to their cruel fate with a smile on their face, knowing that their loved one was now safe. And once enough tears were shed, and hope was almost lost, the martyr would return to their arms of their friends and family for a happy ending. 

But as Mabel reached out her hand to make her deal with a demon, she knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Her happy ending would be far from sight, if not gone entirely. 

_“Who would sacrifice everything they've worked for just for their dumb sibling?”_  

Bill hadn’t understood why anyone would go to such great lengths then. And it only seemed to amuse him now. But Mabel’s answer hadn’t changed. 

“Dipper would.” Mabel whispered under her breath with a light smile on her face. 

Despite everything they’d been through these last 3 years, she knew without a doubt that Dipper would do the same for her. He’d already suffered enough. And now she saw where that suffering would lead. Whether or not she could figure out a way to beat Bill, she would always be there for her brother. 

Mabel’s hand lingered an inch away from Bill’s. She could feel the cobalt flames licking against her palm. 

“Tick-tock, Shooting Star! Are you in or would you rather go back to blissful ignorance?” 

Mabel’s eyes remained focused on the flames. She knew what a terrible idea this was. Bill always made bad deals. But this was the only way to reverse it. 

“I’ll take his place… his deal… and you stay away from Dipper! You don’t hurt him physically or mentally! Not in this world, the next, the mindscape or any other ones out there!” Mabel shouted with all her might. 

Bill’s laughter answered her. What a beautiful deal he’d gotten his hands on! “You got it, Shooting Star!” 

Mabel slapped her palm into Bill’s, gripping tight hoping to at least break his stubby fingers as a final act of defiance. 

But instead they sunk beneath a black oozing mass that continued to grow along with Bill’s size. The blue flames blazed brighter, engulfing Mabel’s entire forearm. But her skin didn’t burn like any kind of campfire she huddled a tad too close to on a chilly summer night. She could feel it consuming her like a disease. Malice. Chaos. 

Mabel could feel his magic burning into her. The energy pierced into her palm like a needle, leaving a mark on her wrist. It surged through her body filling her with excruciating pain. But she refused to let it bring her down. She gritted her teeth and tried to focus on why she was doing this. Who she was doing it for. No matter what Bill had in store for her, she wouldn’t let him break her. She’d survive this. She was Mabel Pines. And there was nothing any demon or monster could do to her that would change that. 

Bill’s laughter never seemed to end through all of this as he now towered over her with his triangle form now reaching the ceiling. It certainly wasn't the easy way to go about this. But he had a lot of ground to cover, and half the summer to do it in now. Much rougher than how he hooked Pine Tree up, but transferring a deal was a lot more painful than just making a new one. Taking on someone else’s pain and agony? All it did was double your own. It was almost enough to bring a tear to his eye. How hilarious! 

“What a pretty sight…” Bill began to hum to himself as he watched his new puppet try and stay strong and hold back the tears as the flames continued to consume her. But he had no intention of breaking his new shiny little toy just yet. It was much more interesting to see what she’d become.

_“Catch a falling star and put it in your pocket, never let it fade away...”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, you might have noticed either by the change in writing style or the "by DisneyMuse" at the top, but I'm not slytherintbh. But I have suggested a few of these alternate endings, and after collaborating for this one, it got so huge and out of hand that they offered if I would like to write this one and I graciously accepted! Hope it's acceptable! 
> 
> ...And it's not over yet. As I said, it got big and out of hand, so I'm probably going to split it over 3 or 4 parts. Already started writing the next part, and have it all planned out in my head. Because Dipper has been tortured more than enough, and it's time to spread some of that fun around! Let me know your thoughts on it so far! If you like what you read, check out my other fics, or hit me up on my tumblr- Disney-Muse to chat!


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